a new tartan

A wind of an autumnal air
weaves in and out
of this summer’s reality.

Fall of rain unbefitting
the season does not seem
to cease.

It hurts to the core,
yet I have no more reason
to pass my days in this fashion.

Core memories
I cannot forget
are trying.

I used to live those days,
but all are gone,
like nothing ever stays.

There is no shelter,
so I breathe the wind,
stir up the old leaves

lying, circling, rising up
in the air to flow down
in the same corner.

Yet somehow I broke the pattern
(we broke the threads, my wife
and myself

though we gave up
future children
to the dried leaves).

Yes, little by little 
the rains let up
and summer smiles,

from rays of sun
weaves a fruit
that ripens into life

awakening
a new tartan,
a new clan.